


Charles is Totally (Not) the Mother (Magnetic Reversal Remix)

by endlesshorizons



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - How I Met Your Mother Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesshorizons/pseuds/endlesshorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles and Erik meet for the first time at the urinal, and somehow years later end up basically co-parenting Erik's baby daughter.</p><p>Remix of Unforgotten's LEGENDARY How I Met Your Mother AU, but with gay!Ted!Erik and bi!Barney!Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haaaave You Met Erik (2005)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Charles is Totally (Not) the Mother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/400313) by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten). 



> The original fic is one of my favourite ever, and I was DYING of excitement when I got Unforgotten as my assignment for the X-men remix! So here it is, hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Same notes as for the original: you can probably read this without knowledge of HIMYM but it will definitely be funnier if you do. I hope I managed to stay in character both with regards to their X-men and HIMYM characters, and actually managed to be funny lol. Also, as my [lovely beta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucer) pointed out, the Britishisms vs. Americanisms in Charles' speech is a mess because I can't figure out just how British vs. American he is (the whole situation in the movies is just weird, kay, can I just point out he's completely American in the comics) which is not exactly helped by the fact that I'm neither British nor American. So let's just say that Charles' constant moving around screwed him up too and I'll just hope that nothing is too cringe-worthy. :D
> 
> Oh, and I totally stole bits and pieces from Unforgotten, including the summary because I really suck at summaries.

No one meets the love of their life on the first day they decide to start looking.

Erik is telling himself that as he does his business at the urinal. Just because Raven and Azazel are getting married doesn’t mean he’s behind; they’re just early. So what if that guy whose eye he had caught across the bar had laughed in his face when he asked if he could get him a drink. Sure, for 32.7 seconds there he had been completely convinced in the vision that this was the guy he would be picking out rings and adopting at least 5 children with, but there are plenty of fish in the sea. After all, Erik is only 27 and he is a pretty good catch, if he does say so himself.

Beside him, someone laughs. Some drunk idiot, probably. It’s pretty distracting when all he wants is to pee and wallow in his thoughts, but Erik knows his bathroom etiquette and makes a point of concentrating on minding his own business.

The laughter continues, but it is much closer than before. “ _Woah_ , dude!” A voice says.

Erik jumps back. He is about to yell “what the fuck?!?” when he gets a good look at the other guy and his brain proceeds to go through an extremely confusing array of hoops. Erik is expecting some straggly-looking pervert, but the guy in front of him is— well he is definitely leering like a pervert, but he is also unbelievably hot. Like, really, really, iron-smelting, supernova-expanding hot.

“Dude, I was just going to say I’m going to teach you to live — ‘cause like, marriage, really? Don’t even think about marriage until you’re at least 30 — but that is some _fine equipment_. Can I buy you a drink?”

Erik gapes. Of all the things he might have been expecting ever, being propositioned by an incredibly hot guy with a sexy British accent while he is standing in the men’s room with his dick still hanging out is not one of them.

“What the actual fuck?!?” Erik finally manages to say (he feels very accomplished that he does not say something pathetic and embarrassing like “yes, please do” instead), because really, where are this guy’s manners? They’re standing in the toilet, for fuck’s sake. And also, “how do you even know I was thinking about marriage to begin with?” he demands.

_Telepath_ , a voice whispers in his head, and Erik groans. Of course he has to be the one dealing with a telepathic nutjob. Only him.

The guy pouts, actually pouts, even though Erik is 95% sure that he is a grown man (but seriously though, could’ve fooled him). “Is that a no to the drink then?”

“That’s a no fucking way,” Erik replies. He turns around and intends to stride out of the restroom with a whirl of offence and disgust, but it doesn’t quite work because Erik realizes that he hasn’t zipped up yet and has to pause awkwardly to do so before tripping out the door.

 

\---

 

When Erik gets back to the booth, thankful to have finally escaped creepy-urinal-guy, he sees that Raven and Azazel have finally deigned to show up, almost an hour late, although Erik really isn’t surprised anymore. In fact, he doesn’t know why he even bothers to still show up on time.

“Seriously, you’re a teleporter,” he grouses to Azazel, “how do you still manage to be late all the time?” Azazel blushes, which shouldn’t be possible but somehow is, and Raven opens her mouth, at which point Erik decides he doesn’t want to know and plugs his ears and starts singing the alphabet song. He keeps it up for a couple minutes because her mouth is still moving but finally she reaches over and forcibly pulls his hands away from his ears.

“You’re such a child,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Like I’ve been saying for the past five minutes, Charles says he’s already here and he’ll be right with us. You know, my brother who just got back from England and needs a place to live?” (“And whose fault is it that I need a new roommate?” Erik grumbles while Raven twists her engagement ring smugly.) “Oh, there he is!” She stands up, putting the full glory of her naked blue self on display which Erik really could have done without, and waves. To avoid the sight of his best friend’s nipples, Erik turns to look at the person she is waving to, then ducks his head because creepy-urinal-guy is looking their way and is gesturing excitedly. He whips his head back around and tells himself to pretend he didn’t see, but can’t help but look back to see if creepy-urinal-guy is still staring. He is, and walking closer and closer, and Erik starts to consider the consequences of bringing the building down around them to his burgeoning architectural career and the impact of imprisonment to his future romantic prospects. Or maybe he should just run. Yes, he should definitely run. Erik is just getting up when creepy-urinal-guy bounces to their table and sticks out a hand. Erik stares at it, wondering what he is supposed to do with it.

“Hi, sorry we weren’t properly introduced earlier,” creepy-urinal-guy says, accent still as disgustingly attractive as ever, “I’m Raven’s brother, Charles Xavier.”

Oh. Well, fuck.

 

—

 

“It’s such a delicate balance, you see? A _dance_! DNA damage needs to be repaired to protect the _integrity_ of the genome, but if you repair _all_ the damage, then a species will never evolve.” Charles says, gesturing wildly to his very not-attentive audience. Raven and Moira, the brunette Charles had introduced as his best friend from undergrad, are rolling their eyes and whispering to each other, while Azazel’s eyes are half-closed and he looks like he’s about to fall off his seat.

Seriously, why does Erik even bother to hang out with these people? Ignoramuses, all of them. Don’t they know how Very Important a point this is? “It’s amazing,” he says, pointedly turning away from his uncultured friends. “There’s almost this— this design to the world to make it the way it is. Just one fraction of a difference in the laws of nature, and we wouldn’t be sitting here today!”

“Exactly!” Charles jumps on Erik’s response, his eyes blue and excited. “Like your _lovely_ branch of telekinesis”(—“actually it’s not”—)”wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the screw-ups of a couple endonucleases.” Very, very blue eyes, Erik notices. He isn’t sure if he’s been given a compliment, but he feels oddly touched either way.

“I can’t believe you’re _still_ using those lines!” Raven’s voice breaks into the conversation, laughing. Erik feels mildly irritated for some reason. But then, mildly irritated is a bit of a default state for him so he doesn’t think too hard about it. “Do they _ever_ work?”

“I’ll have you _know_ ,” Charles pushes himself up from his seat, swaying indignantly, “that my lines have a _very_ high success rate.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” Raven exclaims. “I seem to remember _somebody_ always having drinks thrown at their face.”

Charles is pouting again, over the sound of laughter from the other three at the table. The hoots continue as he ambles across the bar towards a girl Raven picked at random and returns with something pink and sickly sweet soaking into his suit. The others’ howls only get louder.

Personally, Erik thinks it’s all a bit childish.

 

—

 

“No way, I am NOT living with you. Like, ever. Like, in a gabi—gami— a thousand thousand thousand THOUSAND years.” Erik states, very firmly he believes. Like, immovable object, laws of physics firmly. There is no way he will change his mind.

“But Eriiik, I’m the _perfect_ roommate!” Creepy-urinal- _Charles, my name is CHARLES_ whines. Actually _whines_.

“NO, I would rather live with a—with a— a rat, than live with you!”

Charles gasps, although it could also have been someone blowing a dog whistle in the city park they have somehow stumbled into. When did that happen? “Erik! That is _terribly_ degrading, how could you _possibly_ say that?”

“Well, well you’re—“

“Poor rats! Always being _insulted_ and held up as the _lowest_ example of living creatures…don’t you think about how _they_ must _feel_?”

For some reason he isn’t entirely sure of himself, Erik finds that terribly funny. As he doubles over in laughter, he dimly wonders how they ended up sitting on the grass in the park, and where Raven and Azazel and that woman, Myra or Mindy or Macarena ( _really Erik? Macarena???_ ) — where they are.

“They’re back at the bar,” Charles says beside him, head falling on Erik’s shoulder. Erik would complain about that, or the fact that Charles has evidently been strolling casually through his mind, but he can’t decide on which to complain about first. Also, it’s maybe, sort of, kind of, nice. “Because they’re so _not—_ not _awesome_ , they’re totally _unawesome_ , ‘cause they don’t understand the _beauty_ of the _complexity_ of life, pfttt.” Charles is waving his hand around, gesturing wildly, and Erik nods philosophically in agreement. Yes, he remembers that. He remembers talking about the influence of Art Deco in New York architecture and Charles gesticulating about DNA repair and epigenetics in the X gene, and the others _totally not getting it_. Charles is right, they are unawesome. Unawesome is the word he has been looking for all these years. He’s going to call Raven right now, and yell it in her ear, except who knows what she’s doing with Azazel and on second thought, he can wait to scream it in her face tomorrow.

 

—

 

The next morning, Erik doesn’t remember anything after leaving MacLaren’s except a nagging feeling that he needs to call Raven to tell her something important. Very important, although he can’t seem to remember what it is.

Instead, he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes and attempts to achieve some semblance of being an actual, living person. His brain turns up patchy images of Raven’s stupidly hot but also really creepy brother and Erik is just starting to panic when realizes that he had fallen into bed fully dressed, shoes included (eww), and there is no sign of Charles anywhere in the room. When he ventures out of his bedroom, he finds a mess of blankets on the couch, a couple of cardboard boxes by the door and a terrible smell coming from the kitchen.

By the stove, Charles is flipping pancakes, although it would be incredibly generous to call them pancakes. It would be generous to call them food. It seems like Charles has decided to move in, _without his permission_ , while Erik was otherwise compromised (and seriously, how did he even manage to get all this done before noon on Sunday after downing half the bar the night before?).

Erik really can’t deal with this right now, and is about to issue eviction orders when Charles raises a hand to his temple and Erik’s massive hangover instantly vanishes.

Erik sighs in relief. Charles can stay, Erik decides as he basks in the lack of pounding in his head and the scent of burnt flour.


	2. The Bro Code (2007)

Erik sleeps with Charles just the once. He’s known since day one that it would be a pretty bad idea, and he is not wrong in that.

 

\---

 

There is a knock on his bedroom door. It has to be the fifteenth in as many minutes, and Erik is _really not capable_ of handling Charles’ crazy schemes right now. The last and only time Erik had opened the door, Charles had been standing there in a wig and a fake moustache and an atrocious seventies outfit, shoving something white and uniform-looking at Erik.

“Here, put this on,” he said, “you need to get laid.”

Erik stared pointedly at the outfit. “That is _not_ going to get anybody laid.”

“No, no, see, it’s The Shawshank Rejection, straight from the Playbook! You’re the falsely accused prison escapee who was locked up for 10 years, and I’m the douchebag ex that turns you away. So like, you’ve got the ex-con appeal without the actual psychopathy plus double the sympathy. Dudes totally dig that.”

Erik had slammed the door in Charles’ face.

“Go away!” He yells now, then gets up when the knocks don’t stop to open the door and yell it at Charles’ face. What does a guy need to do to be left in peace to wallow and entirely ignore the conventions of personal hygiene? He was just left at the altar (or the chuppah, he supposes), for fuck’s sake. (“I told you so,” Raven says. Fuck Raven. Just because everybody said that Logan wasn’t ready to settle down, including Logan himself, doesn’t mean it was necessarily true.)

“We’re going to laser tag!” Charles exclaims brightly when Erik opens the door. He is already wearing the vest with a laser gun slugged over one shoulder, and holding out another set to Erik.

“Where the fuck did you even get those?”

Charles shrugs. “Would you believe me if I told you someone left these outside our door?”

Erik sighs, but grabs the equipment. Well, shooting at twelve-year-olds can be satisfying under certain circumstances, a hypothesis which is repeatedly proven true over the next forty-five minutes. Even better, while he waits in the lobby for Charles to be stopped in his rampage against prepubescents, he finds himself falling into conversation with a handsome, blond, 90%-sure-not-straight guy. He is just about to ask for his plans for the night when he hears a shriek: “Uncle Alex!” Erik turns around to see the kid he maybe, possibly, definitely accidentally on-purposely tripped in the arena. Three times.

Well, so much for that.

 

—

 

“This is all your fault,” Erik grumbles when they are back at the apartment.

“Excuse me, that was your own fault. I am the perfect wingman.”

“Please, I can’t remember the last time one of your plays worked.”

“That’s because you’re doing them wrong. They work for me all the time.”

“Yeah, because you always run off before they wake up in the morning so they don’t have a chance to kick your ass.”

“Not always. If I don’t get away on time, I just tell them I’m in love with them. Nothing says psycho like a love confession after the first date.”

“Fuck you, you’re a terrible friend. I did that _once_.”

 

—

 

That, Erik thinks, is the difference between him and Charles. Charles never bothers with second dates and calling back. He is always moving from one conquest to the next. Meanwhile, Erik’s spirit animal is a twelve-year-old girl (according to Raven).

Sometimes, Erik wonders if life wouldn’t be easier if he were more like Charles. Charles doesn’t care about things like personality and compatibility. Everything he cares about in a partner can be measured on a one-dimensional scale of hotness. He doesn’t have to worry about hairy Canadian lumberjacks who stand him up in front of his boss, his best friends, his obnoxious cousin, and most importantly, his mother and her entourage of little old ladies from temple.

Erik sighs. He really needs to stop thinking about Logan. Charles is right, he needs to get laid. Except that means changing out of the laser tag vest of dubious origins, showering, shaving, and you know, actually leaving the house un-coerced, and that is just too much work. Really, if he’s getting laid today, there’s only one possibility, and that is the other sweaty guy in the apartment bathing in the freshly-shed tears of twelve-year-olds.

It’s not like Erik hasn’t considered the possibility before, just not with anything resembling seriousness. After all, Charles hasn’t stopped asking since that first time, but it’s honestly just so much background noise by now. Erik has always known that the two of them want entirely different things and he has no desire to be just another notch on Charles’ apparently unending bedpost.

Today, though, maybe they finally do want the same thing. For once, Erik wants something simple, with no strings attached.

 

—

 

Charles has always held certain beliefs about his sexual prowess, which Erik in turn has always taken with a grain of salt. After all, for a telepath, Charles believes in a great number of things that are simply not true.

This is not one of them, apparently.

 

—

 

When Erik wakes up the next morning, it takes him less than a second to start hyperventilating. Because, fuck, he just slept with Charles and in a second Charles will wake up and it’ll be super awkward and they’ll never be able to meet each other’s eyes again. Erik will have to move out to avoid the embarrassment and Raven will be disgusted and mad at him for messing up the group dynamics and then he will be homeless and friendless and probably jobless too, because when one thing goes wrong in your life everything else naturally goes to shit too.

Somewhere in the middle of Erik freaking out, Charles opens his eyes and says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

It takes Erik a while to realize that Charles is speaking and for the sounds to rearrange themselves into actual, intelligible words. When the sentence finally makes sense in his head, he bursts out in relieved laughter, which is honestly much more than the joke deserves.

“Fuck you,” he says amicably. “I was afraid this would be awkward but I see you’re being a dick like usual.” Charles is pretty terrible for using that as a break up line to begin with (Erik will have you know he was crushed when Janos literally ran away), but at the moment he is kind of touched. It’s a pretty eloquent way to say that nothing will change, if you’re speaking Charles Xavier.

Erik is halfway through putting on his pants when Charles speaks again, but it’s so quiet he doesn’t hear it at first. Which is strange in itself, because Charles is never quiet.

“What?” he asks, turning back around.

“I think you should go,” Charles is saying and not looking at Erik.

Erik stares. “Wait, you’re seriously kicking me out? I thought that was a joke.”

“Just go,” Charles says, still not bothering to even _look_ at Erik.

“Really, Charles? I thought our friendship was worth more to you than this!”

“Get out!” Charles finally turns around and man, he looks terrifying. His face is scrunched up, his hair is falling in his eyes, and he sounds _furious_. Erik is at the door before he realizes what’s happening and that seems to be when Charles realizes it too.

“Oh my god—” Charles starts to say, trying to leap over the bed.

“Fuck, fuck— stay away from me!” Erik screams, backing away, not that that _does_ anything. He’s still shocked that any of this morning just happened, hurt that Charles — _his best friend_ — would not only kick him out like some nameless fuck but use telepathy to do it — but he’ll be damned if he lets Charles see how shaken up he is.

So Erik gets out.

 

—

 

Erik is drinking moodily in the living room alone. Well, at least Erik’s prediction about how that morning would turn out didn’t come true. Sure, he and Charles haven’t talked or even seen each other in three weeks and Raven is mad as hell, but at least he still has his apartment (mostly because Charles had somehow magically taken all his things and vacated the apartment as quickly and _without a word to Erik_ as he moved in) and he continues to be slowly driven insane by Tony Stark as they hammer away at the new Stark Tower.

Erik is still mad. He’s always known that Charles is a bit of an asshole (which he always thought was fine ‘cause he’s been told he’s a bit of an asshole too, so at least they’re well-matched), but this is really pushing it. Apparently being rejected, telepathically manipulated then utterly abandoned by his best friend, all in the 48 hour interval after being dumped by his fiancé really, really sucks balls (except not literally, unfortunately). Who the hell would have thought?

Erik finishes his drink, and is just about to pull open the window and yell at a few teenagers on the sidewalk to release his anger when the familiar smell of sulphur fills the apartment.

“Seriously Azazel, how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that in the apartment? Now Charles will think I left rotten eggs in the fridge aga—” Erik abruptly cuts himself off. He can’t believe he actually said that traitor’s name.

“Erik, you fucking dumbass!” Raven yells and marches up to him, although her journey is, thankfully, somewhat hindered by the enormous bulge of her belly so that Erik is able to get away without sustaining serious bodily injuries, but he does take the precaution of hiding behind the sofa. “Get back here, I’m going to fucking murder you and cut your body into a billion magnetic slices!”

“Shouldn’t you watch your language in front of the baby? You know they can hear you at this point.” Erik absolutely does not whimper as the swaying blue whale edges in on him. Erik tries to flee. The incensed cetacean shrieks. Erik has definitely never harbored any deep-seated desires to be krill. Erik realizes that he has forgotten about the red-skinned accomplice in his panic when he is easily scooped up in his talons. Erik breathes in a lungful of noxious smoke and, when he has finally stopped coughing, finds himself in what has to be someplace on the set of Downton Abbey.

In front of him, looking just as startled and in need of an oxygen chamber, is Charles.

 

—

 

There are a number of reactions Erik can have to being subjected to the old lock-‘em-up-in-a-room-til-they-talk tactic and being unwillingly confronted with his former-friend-slash-enemy. Erik chooses the simplest one by asking, once Azazel has poofed away again and Erik can feel the lack of metal denoting any sort of structure in a 10 mile radius, “What the fuck is this place?”

“This is the parlor of the Xavier estate in Westchester,” Charles says stiffly.

“You have an estate? With an actual parlor? Normal people don’t have parlors!”

“What do you have against parlors?” Charles shoots back.

“Parlors are dumb and make people uncomfortable!”

“Well if parlors make you uncomfortable then maybe you should just stay away from them!”

“They don’t make me uncomfortable. I just hate it when rich assholes use them to get what they want out of you then throw you out because they don’t give a shit about you!”

“How would you know they don’t give a shit? Maybe they give lots of shits!”

“If they did, they wouldn’t throw people they supposedly give lots of shits about out of their parlor!”

“Well maybe they didn’t mean that and they’re really, really sorry and they want these people they really care about back in their stupid parlor!” Charles looks like he’s about to cry and Erik is definitely not holding back tears (like seriously, why would you even think that?). This is also the point at which he realizes how really, really stupid this conversation sounds. So when Charles says, “I miss you,” he mumbles it back and lets Charles launch himself at him and wrap him in a hug.

“By the way,” Charles says into Erik’s shoulder, “your metaphors really suck. It stopped making sense halfway through the argument.”

“Excuse you,” Erik replies, “that was your metaphor. I was talking about parlors, what were you talking about?”


	3. Challenge Accepted (2010-14)

Erik goes out with Suzanna Dane for a grand total of three days.

“Are you serious??” The gang screams at him when she has gone to the restroom.

“What?” Erik folds his arms. They don’t have to look so surprised. It’s not like he’s ever taken interest in a woman ever, but seriously. They don’t have to look so surprised.

“Do you even like her?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Does she know you’re gay?!?”

“Shhh,” Erik pulls them back down into a huddle and whispers. “Don’t say that word so loudly!”

Moira rolls her eyes. “What word? Gay? Is there anyone in this bar who doesn’t know Erik is gay?” She hollers.

The entire population of MacLaren’s shakes their heads in unison.

Erik scrunches up his nose. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes!”

“Maybe she’s special.”

The gang still looks skeptical. “Everyone is special to you until they’re not,” Azazel says, which doesn’t even make sense, honestly.

“It recently occurred to me that I’ve been looking for love in the wrong place,” Erik explains, very sensibly he thinks. “Women are generally more receptive to settling down and having children, hence,” Erik spreads an arm in a _tada!_ gesture.

The group groans.

“I give it a week,” Moira says.

“Five days,” Raven corrects.

“Two.” That’s Charles.

Well too bad, they’re all _wrong_.

 

—

 

Erik is laughed at for two straight weeks about the whole Suzanna affair, which is unfortunately 4.7 times longer than the relationship itself, after which they forget about it except for the occasional jab. That is, until a year later.

He and Moira are sitting on gigantic couches in a coffee shop, staring at the looping handwriting on the cup in Charles’ hands.

“Swarles? How did she get Swarles from Charles? Who would ever be called Swarles?” Charles complains.

He and Moira simultaneously turn to each other and grin.

“ _Please_ don’t start calling me Swarles.”

This is when Erik’s phone rings.

“Hi Erik, this is Suzanna.”

In the background, Charles starts giggling, the snooping bastard. “Uh, hi.”

“I’m in front of your apartment right now, where are you?”

“Out. Why?” Erik asks warily, suddenly remembering her furious expression when he broke up with her.

“Just get over here. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell everyone what happened at my apartment the first night we went out.”

Erik stands up in a hurry, almost dumping his coffee all over his legs. Charles laughs louder.

“Shut up, Swarles.”

 

—

 

A baby. There is a baby in his arms. What the hell is he supposed to do with a baby?

Well, this is what he always wanted, isn’t it? You know, babies and all the other stuff. Except this is just the one baby and none of the other stuff. He’s still living above a bar, for fuck’s sake.

Okay, so Erik is maybe freaking out, just a little bit. So he does what he always does when he freaks out. He calls Charles. Who doesn’t really help most of the time but usually makes Erik feel better, if only because whatever Erik has done, Charles has fucked up worse. Except this time, as far as Erik knows.

“Charles, help, there’s a baby in my apartment,” he says when Charles picks up.

“…Say what?”

“Apparently it’s mine. It has green hair.”

Charles pauses for a moment, then starts to laugh.

“Hey, it’s not funny. This is very serious business.”

“This is what Suzanna called you about?”

“…Maybe.”

“Seriously, you were together for _three days_. Did you even use protection?”

“Of course! But my sperm is just like this super sperm, and it had different ideas.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Erik cringes. Yup, no doubts about it, it looks like he is definitely, 100% freaking out. On the other end of the line, Charles is still laughing when Erik hangs up on him.

Right, now he just has to call his mama, who nearly dies right there of happiness and promises to take the next Greyhound to New York to see her granddaughter but is no help whatsoever when it comes to what he is supposed to _do_.

As soon as he presses the end button, the baby starts to cry. Erik is just about to break down and weep himself when he sees the box of diapers Suzanna had left by the door.

Right, babies wet themselves.

Twenty minutes later, Erik is significantly calmer. It turns out that he knows more about taking care of babies than he thought, thanks to involuntary babysitting duty for Raven and vague memories of his mother with his little sister when he was a kid. Plus, Lorna is an adorable baby. She has huge green eyes and like, the coolest shade of bright green hair, and she’s already got a bunch of spoons floating above her head in a circle as she reaches up and bats at them. Erik can already tell she’s going to be the coolest kid in playschool and a really powerful mutant — which, obviously, is a given because she’s Erik’s.

Suzanna can fuck off if she doesn’t want to be a part of Lorna’s life. Just thinking about it makes Erik angry. Apparently mutation is all fine and good as long as it’s not your child and it’s not visible. Erik starts to ponder the merits of the old arguments from the 60s for a mutant-only state, but then Lorna starts screaming and Erik is too busy mixing baby formula to rehash the debate.

By the time Charles gets home, Erik is curled up on the couch cooing at Lorna, who is very determinedly cooing back. It takes a while for Erik to even realize that Charles is back and is standing ten feet away, staring at them.

“Uh,” Erik says, suddenly realizing the awkward situation this has turned into. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for, so you can, you know, move out and, yeah.” Because of course Charles would want to move out. Best friends or not, there is no way Charles would want to subject himself to 3 a.m. wailing and dirty diapers and baby food spilling all over the floor, especially not when it isn’t even his own child. Charles still hasn’t said anything yet and he’s looking away, and Erik starts to gloomily resign himself to his imminent abandonment.

Then, Charles sits down at the other end of the couch with the dopiest grin on his face and his eyes shining. “No way, she needs _someone_ sane in her life. We can’t have you raising her into an evil mutant mastermind.”

Erik scoffs, because Charles thinks _Erik_ is the insane one? Erik is definitely the sensible one in their friendship, _duh_. But he’s grinning, the one with all his teeth that always causes Raven to start humming the Jaws theme song and ends with Azazel and Moira joining her in a three-person symphonic rendition. Evil mutant mastermind — what a ridiculous idea. But the first openly mutant president, now that’s an achievable goal. After all, he does have high expectations for his daughter.

 

—

 

Charles insists on helping take care of the baby, an offer which Erik doesn’t even bother to feign being guilty or apologetic about accepting. After all, what are best friends for other than to drag down with you when your life is being upended?

“But I have to admit I have no idea what I’m doing,” Charles continues.

“Good, me neither,” Erik replies. Obviously, he’s a little concerned, but not any more so than any new parent should be, he thinks. After all, admitting to your shortcomings is the first step to succeeding, or something like that. So Erik would think that they’re off to a pretty good start already. Besides, they have babysat for Raven in the past two years and Erik, very deep down (“actually it’s pretty obvious, Erik”), kind of adores Kurt.

Besides, they’ve got telepathy and metallokinesis between the two of them, and one and a half persons who can handle delicate laboratory conditions (it’s been a decade since his undergrad lab courses, okay, and he’s not a fucking _engineer —_ and so he doesn’t know exactly what Charles does, but he’s reasonably sure that he got his PhD in genetics by legitimate means). How difficult can it be?

 

—

 

“Charles, seriously, are you still not done with the diaper?” Erik pokes his head into the room because it’s been, like, hours (okay, so fifteen minutes, but still).

“Um, can you take a look actually? I can’t seem to get it to fit right,” Charles finally says.

Erik looks. “What the hell are you _doing_?”

“I’m just—”

“Charles, in case you haven’t noticed, Lorna _doesn’t_ have a tail.”

“…Oh.”

Yes, they are definitely off to a fantastic start.

 

—

 

“Charles, where are you?” Erik demands as soon as the call goes through.

“I told you, something came up at work!”

“ _Work_ ,” Erik sneers, which causes Charles to humph irritatedly.

“Look, did you just call to be an asshole or is there something you actually have to say?”

“Lorna’s been crying for ages and I’ve tried everything. I need you to come home and do the thing.”

“Well, I don’t have time to come home and do the thing, so just figure it out yourself! Lots of people who aren’t telepaths still manage to raise kids somehow.”

“Yeah, and they screw up! Look at how I turned out!”

“Oh my god, Erik! I’m telling your mum you said that.”

“You wouldn’t!” Because Erik’s mama is a fantastic mother, it’s not her fault that her husband was an asshole.

When Charles finally gets home three hours later, Erik is collapsed on the sofa. He is very pleased to see that Charles looks as exhausted as he feels, and hopes that he spilled all the samples or got dumped with all the paperwork or whatever it is.

“What do you do for a living anyway?” Erik asks, already knowing the answer before Charles replies but hoping that he might let it slip anyway.

Charles manages to summon up a very tired rendition of his customary chuckle as he crumples next to Erik on the couch. “Please,” he says, by ways of non-explanation.

 

—

 

“Come on, Lorna, it’s time for dinner!” Erik comes home to Charles’ pleading and a series of resounding “No!”s from Lorna, which has recently become her favorite word and response to everything.

Erik takes a moment to be amused at the sight of Charles tripping over nothing before taking pity and pulling Lorna by the metal pieces sewn into her clothing and depositing her in the high chair.

On the other side of the room, Charles sighs in relief.

“You know you could just make her come to you.”

“Absolutely not!” Charles looks scandalized, before beginning to expound on the detriments of telepathic influence on the emotional and cognitive development of infants.

 

—

 

“… And they locked him up in a secret prison for ten years, before they found out he never killed the president!”

“Erik, what are you telling her?”

“She asked for a bedtime story!” Erik says in defence. “I thought it might as well be educational.”

(“Story! Story!” Lorna chants in the background, though she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of r’s yet.)

Charles sighs. “For the record, history lessons involving assassination are on the list of things _not appropriate for a three-year-old_.” Then, he kicks, pulls, and jabs at Erik with his elbow until Erik stands up and makes enough room for Charles to sit down on the edge of the bed instead. “All right, Lorna, let me tell you about Charles Darwin and the theory of natural selection."

Well, that will send her right off, at least.

 

—

 

A few weeks into kindergarten, Lorna comes home after a play date with Kurt and Marie and makes a beeline for Charles.

“Charles, I have a question.”

“Yes, darling?” Charles prompts, pulling her onto his lap.

“You’re my mommy, right?”

From where he’s seated on the other side of the breakfast table, Erik bursts out laughing.

Charles apparently has better control, because he only asks, “why do you say that?”

“Kurt said you’re my mommy,” she says. She’s still at that point where she thinks everything Kurt says is right because he’s six and going to school already. “Because you live with me and you’re not my papa.” Lorna is grinning, showing all her teeth in a way that Raven frequently makes sniping comments about, looking very proud of herself at having figured it out.

Charles’ face twists very strangely at that, involving several muscle groups in what are normally contradicting arrangements. “Sorry Lorna, but I’m not your mummy,” he says.

Lorna’s miniature shark grin suddenly crumples into a drowned puppy stare. “Then who’s my mommy? Kurt says everyone has a mommy!”

“Actually, that’s not—”

“Why don’t I have a mommy?!” Lorna wails. Erik starts to panic, because he can tell Lorna is inches away from screaming, crying hysteria. He’s always known this question will come up at some point, he’s not stupid, but he still isn’t entirely prepared for it yet. He blames Raven and Azazel. Damn it, what are those two teaching their kids?

Erik is about to launch into the answer he’s prepared, even though he isn’t quite satisfied with it, when Charles speaks instead. “Hey, hey, sorry Lorna, I’m just joking. Of course I’m your mummy!”

Erik opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He isn’t sure if he should be thanking Charles or hitting him over the head. Or laughing hysterically. But Lorna is smiling again and latching herself onto Charles’ neck, and there’s no way he’s going to tell her the truth _now_ (or a diplomatic sort of-truth, anyway).

Later that night, Charles calls Raven, and Erik pretends not to hear when Raven screams, loud enough to be heard from the other side of the phone line, “ _You mean you two still aren’t fucking?!??_ ” What does she know about him and Charles?


	4. Legen-waitforit-dary (2016)

“Papa! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Lorna screams as soon as he steps into the after-school daycare, leaping into his arms and then right past him out onto the sidewalk while he’s still blinking in the hallway.

“Got something exciting planned today?” The assistant asks.

“Laser tag,” Erik tells her, relishing the ability to finally say it without embarrassment — because parenting privileges, hah!

“Papa, me and Charles are gonna _crush_ you today!” Lorna says when Erik catches up with her, making a vicious gesture with her little fist.

“What, you two are ganging up on me? That’s not fair!” Erik says, pretending to look put out. Not that he actually is, of course. That would be childish, and Erik is totally, 100% a grown-up.

When they get home, Erik is surprised that Charles isn’t home yet. Charles is always home early on Tuesdays for half-price laser tag (because he's a cheap bastard despite his billions of dollars), ever since he first moved in and used to try and convince Erik and the gang to go with him, and Erik would end up giving in every other week on average then spend the night at MacLaren’s vehemently denying it.

Erik tries to _ping!_ Charles with his mind to see where he is, but there is no reply from the part of Erik’s head that Charles has claimed with his metaphorical stakes. It happens sometimes when Charles is busy at work, which Erik thinks is complete bull because nobody knows what Charles does and Erik has decided that he just spends all day playing multiplayer chess on his phone while a 100-inch flatscreen displays the exact amount of his inheritance. What could Charles possibly be doing that’s more important than _laser tag night_?

Well, at least that means he can get Lorna to finish her homework first, even though it involves a frankly unreasonable amount of sulking. (Like seriously, it’s just coloring and counting dots.) But as Lorna works through her circles and rectangles and clock hands and there is still no word from Charles, Erik’s annoyance starts to edge into panic. Charles is _never_ late to laser tag, that’s like, against the physical laws of the universe. Something is wrong, Erik knows it. With a backwards glance at Lorna, who’s swinging her legs and humming the theme song of My Little Pony, Erik picks up his phone and dials Raven’s number.

 

—

 

Erik wants to scream. Nobody is taking this seriously!

Raven’s response to the crisis is to snort at him. “‘You guys are terrible parents, brainwashing Lorna to feed your laser tag addiction.”

(“We’re not parents — I mean like, yeah, but not like parents together, but okay yeah together but not you know, _together_ —” Raven interrupts him with another snort.)

Moira doesn’t even pick up her phone, and Hank just tells him that Charles isn’t in his office before going back to muttering about restriction enzymes or whatever. So really, Erik can’t be blamed for taking what is only the next logical step and calling the police.

“Sir, we’ll keep a file open just in case, but I’m sure he’s fine,” the dispatcher is saying.

“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s _laser tag night_ , and Charles is _late_!”

“I understand, sir, but you said it’s been an hour?”

“That’s right.” An _hour_. A whole _hour_.

“Like I said, I’ll keep a file open, but I’m pretty sure he just got caught up with something and forgot to tell you. Who did you say this was, your husband?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Roommate.”

The dispatcher sighs, and really, that’s just unprofessional. “Look,” the woman on the phone says, “I understand your concern, but it’s only been an hour and he’s just your roommate so I doubt—” Erik slams down the phone, fuming at the idea that Charles is _just_ anything. How dare the woman, acting like he’s _overreacting_ or something, like Erik is being anything but clear-headed and completely logical right now. Seriously, this is what he pays his taxes for?

He calls Raven and Azazel over to pick up Lorna so he can go look for Charles himself, because who knows what kind of trouble Charles could be in. Maybe he got hit by a car or fell in a manhole or got kidnapped by aliens and is being forced into marriage with the princess of an intergalactic empire. Whatever it is, Erik knows he needs to be there _right now_.

This is when the apartment door bangs open and Moira charges in.

“I just got your message. Is Charles still missing?” She yells as soon as she’s through the door.

“Yes!” Erik yells back, “and no one is taking this seriously!”

“Jesus Christ!” Raven mutters in the background as she goes to comfort Lorna, who has just burst out into a fresh round of tears.

Moira pauses to take in the scene in front of her before quickly taking a few deep breaths and settling down. “Well, I’m sure he’ll show up soon,” she says breezily, which she never is and therefore leads Erik to think that things are very not-breezy indeed. “I’ll just be back in my apartment if anyone needs me,” she says and turns around.

Erik follows her into the apartment hallway. “You know something,” he hisses at her when the door has closed behind him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Erik, how would I know something you don’t? You’re like married to the guy.”

“We’re not married!” Erik says reflexively, because like, they’re not and people need to stop saying that (like, why would _anyone_ think that?), but maybe he will drag Charles to city hall after this because apparently people take “my husband disappeared” a lot more seriously than “my roommate disappeared”. Then, he remembers that there are more important things right now because he needs to be able to find Charles to drag him to legally binding proceedings. “What do you know?” He demands again to Moria.

“I don’t know anything,” she replies, as if Erik would actually buy that in the least.

“We both know that Charles is in trouble, so why don’t you just _tell me what you know_?”

Moira stares at him from a long moment, and just when Erik is thinking of tugging on her necklace to help her decision-making process along, she sighs and speaks. “I’m surprised you don’t know already. I did say he could tell you.”

“Know what?” Erik feels something hot and unpleasant flare up at Moira’s words. What kind of secrets do Charles and Moira have? Erik was right, he always did think they were weirdly close, always having these _coffees_ and _brunches_ together. _They’re_ probably secretly married or something (and now that Erik thinks about it, Charles hasn’t brought anyone home in ages, like since Lorna was born — that’s a coincidence — so he totally could be married), with a secret house in the suburbs and secret kids who Charles is playing laser tag with right now instead.

“Lehnsherr!” Moira punches his shoulder and, ow. She punches hard. Huh, he never would’ve guessed. “I don’t know what idiotic things you’re imagining”—oh, and now she’s looking at him with _that_ expression, the one Raven is always using on him, these women and their hurtful, condescending accusations—“but I’m talking about his job.”

Oh, of _course_ , she _would_ know. “So you know what he does for a living?”

“Yes, because he works for me.”

Erik gapes. “But-but you work at the university! And Charles is at Shaw Biotech! I know that much at least.”

Moira sighs again. “I know I’m going to regret this but… come on, we’ll talk in the car.”

They leave the apartment building and sure enough, there is a car waiting outside. A very black, very nondescript car. Erik stares, feeling like he’s being kidnapped as Moira opens the door for him, but steps inside anyway because, dammit, where the hell is Charles?

Once they’re seated inside, the car starts and Moira hands him a thick file. Erik flips it open and shit, it looks like there are hundreds of pages in there. “I don’t have time for this,” Erik snaps impatiently and hands the file back, although he does catch the words “Shaw Biotech” multiple times before he closes the folder. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Moira shakes her head but starts to speak. “I do have a position at the university, and Charles _is_ working for Shaw Biotech. But ultimately, we both work for the CIA. We’ve long suspected that Sebastian Shaw is involved in human trafficking and experimentation schemes on mutants, both here and overseas.”

“Stop, stop, say that again. Are you telling me that Charles spends every day in the same building as a _deranged, psychopathic mutant Nazi_? Is he crazy?”

Moira shrugs. “You know Charles and his whole change-the-world and everybody-lives-together-happily-ever-after shit. Well, he also said something about getting revenge on the guy in a suit who stole his ex-boyfriend back in the days when he was a longhaired hippie, but mostly the happily-ever-after stuff.”

Erik thinks that his jaw has been permanently unhinged and propped open. What the hell? Charles is supposed to be a spoiled rich kid with some fancy, useless job he swindled from Daddy’s connections, not a super spy!

“But anyway,” Moira continues, “Charles was supposed to be our attempt at cracking Shaw’s inner circle of elite scientists.”

“Wait, why are you saying _was_?” Erik asks, feeling more than a little hysterical.

“ _Was_ , because he contacted me earlier today to set up a meeting about something he just learned, and now he’s gone!” Moira snaps.

Shit, shit, shit. This is much worse than anything he had been imagining, and usually people call him pessimistic. Like, he’s seen that Shaw guy on TV and fuck, you can just tell that the guy eats babies’ hearts for fun.

“So what are we going to do?” Erik demands.

“There is no we. _I’m_ going to call headquarters and _you_ are going back inside to watch yellow pill-shaped cyclopses with your daughter.”

“They’re not cyclopses — well, most of them,” Erik protests, “and I’m not going to watch Despicable Me and _wait_ while Charles is being tortured!”

Oh shit — that just came out, but now that he’s thought of it, _of course_ Charles is being tortured, he’s watched enough spy movies to know that much. He’s going to get his fingers cut off one by one then his toes and like, the other appendage, which Erik has only seen once (twice, if you count their first meeting) but he’s still a pretty big fan of and now he’ll never get to see it again. And then he’ll be dumped into the ocean or buried in cement and Erik will have to raise Lorna alone and he’ll never get to make fun of Charles when his hair inevitably falls out which Charles will be really self-conscious about and Erik won’t get to tell him it’s okay because he’ll always love him even if he ends up turning into Humpty Dumpty —

And oh, of course Erik loves him. He doesn’t even care that Raven and Azazel and Moira were apparently right because _he loves Charles_. And fuck, this is the _worst_ timing, because now he won’t ever get to tell him or find out if Charles feels the same way and he will never get to drag Charles to city hall and trick him into getting married.

“Jesus, Erik, stop crying” — “I’m,” sniffle, “not,” hiccup, “crying!” — “we don’t know that Charles is being tortured! We don’t even know if Shaw has him! For all we know, he’s just hiding out somewhere for a bit.”

“You should still let me help,” Erik insists, once he has his not-tears (shut up, there was something in his eye, okay?) under control, “I can mess up guns and stuff.”

Moira looks at him skeptically. “Right, guns and stuff. Look, I told you what’s going on so you won’t go around pissing off international crime bosses. Now go home!”

This is when Erik suddenly feels like his brain has been split open and, when he has finally lifted his head out of his hands and come back into himself, he realizes that it’s someone screaming his name into his mind very, very loudly. When the yelling finally dies down, Erik gets the ridiculously warm presence that’s completely, utterly _Charles_ and he can’t help but physically reach out to grasp it, which of course causes him to fall forward off his seat (because only losers wear seat belts in black, nondescript spy cars, duh).

_CHARLES!!! Are you all right?!_

_Oh Erik, you don’t have to trick me, of course I’ll marry you—_ Oh and that’s Charles’ voice in his head, he’s okay—

_YOU’RE OKAY, you’re okay, shit, where are you?_

_—and I love you too, you idiot—_

_Where are you? What are they doing to you?_

_—I’ve always loved you—_

_Are they hurting you? What’s happening?_

_—we’ll raise Lorna together and you can make fun of my hair when it falls out and—_

_DAMMIT CHARLES, WHERE ARE YOU?!?_

A pause, where Charles is cut off from his train of thought. _Oh, I’m in the basement of the Shaw Building. Sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner, but I just managed to trick Shaw into smashing the telepath-proof walls and cracking it. He’s here with pliers and clamps and stuff, but it’s okay because he’s been monologuing for the past three hours and doesn’t look like he’s going to be stopping and getting on with it anytime soon._ Charles sends him a mental image of Shaw, foaming at the mouth and wearing a dick-shaped helmet as he rambles on about mutant supremacy and ruling the world and something about a nuclear holocaust?

 _Uh, this might be a good time to let you guys know I’m here too._ Oh crap, that’s Moira.

 _Yeah, us too,_ and that’s Raven.

 _Actually I think you’re broadcasting to everyone in New York_ , says someone that Erik thinks might be Carl the bartender from MacLaren’s. Oops.

 _Yay, Papa and Mommy are getting married!_ Lorna squeals.

Okay, Erik thinks, so now might be a good time to finally explain to Lorna that Charles isn’t actually her mother. Right after they get Charles away from Sebastian Shaw, although it looks like they can take their time with that.


End file.
